§18
When he had gone Joanna said to Ellen—
"D'you think it would be seemly if I asked Mr. Hill here to stay?"
"Of course it would be 'seemly,' Jo. I'm a married woman. But would he be able to come? He's in business somewhere, isn't he?"
"Yes, but he could get away for Whitsun."
"Then ask him by all means. But ..."
She looked at her quickly and teasingly.
"But what?"
"Jo, do you care about this man?"
"What d'you mean? Why should I care? Or, leastways, why shouldn't I?"
"No reason at all. He's a good bit younger than you are, but then I always fancied that if you married it ud be a man younger than yourself."
"Who said I was going to marry him?"
"No one. But if you care ..."
"I never said I did."
"Oh, you're impossible," said Ellen with a little shrug. She picked up a book from the table, but Joanna could not let the conversation drop.
"What d'you think of Mr. Hill, Ellen? Does he remind you of anyone particular?"
"No, not at the moment."
"Hasn't it ever struck you he's a bit like my Martin Trevor?"
Her tongue no longer stammered at the name.
"Your Martin Trevor! Jo, what nonsense, he's not a bit like him."
"He's the living image—the way his hair grows out of his forehead, and his dark, saucy eyes ..."
"Well, I was only a little girl when you were engaged to Martin Trevor, but as I remember him he was quite different from Mr. Hill. He belonged to another class, for one thing.... He was a gentleman."
"And you think Mr. Hill ain't a gentleman?"
"My dear Joanna! Of course he's not—he doesn't profess to be."
"He's got a good position as a clerk. Some clerks are gentlemen."
"But this one isn't."
"How do you know?"
"Because I happen to be engaged to someone who is."
"That ain't any reason for miscalling my friends."
"I'm not 'miscalling' anyone.... Oh, hang it all, Jo, don't let's quarrel about men at our time of life. I'm sorry if I said anything you don't like about Mr. Hill. Of course, I don't know him as well as you do."